


Hot Cocoa

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: Christmas Drabbles (SFW) [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: (Im)Proper use of tongues and whipped cream, F/M, Fluff, Girlfriend/Boyfriend, Hot Cocoa, Mildly suggestive undertones, Reader-Insert, incubus!Akira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21854383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: Winter.The most “magical” of the four seasons.But…The magic between you and Akira far outweighs the festivities of Christmas.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira/Reader
Series: Christmas Drabbles (SFW) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1574497
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	Hot Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

> The first of the 12 nice Christmas presents is now ready~.
> 
> Please enjoy, my dears!

Winter wasn’t your favourite season.

Sure, it was the most _“magical”_ of seasons when you were a kid, but as you matured—and when you figured out that _“Santa’s”_ handwriting matched your mother’s, the height of irony—the magic had faded away, slowly but surely.

You put up as brave a face as you could, _pretending_ to smile when your younger family members—your siblings, your cousins—giggled, and did their best to try and stay up to catch _Santa_ stuffing presents underneath the Christmas tree each year, red-handed.

Silently, however, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your younger siblings’ antics, and your cousins’ glowing eyes. You’d watch as they ogled the Christmas tree like it had appeared from thin air itself, their gaze full of innocence as they snickered and whispered while huddled together, daring each other to pick at the colourful presents stuffed beneath the glittering tree, the golden star twinkling at the top.

You wished you could still look forward to Christmas Eve the way your younger family members did.

You still enjoyed spending the holidays with your parents, siblings, relatives, and your friends.

You still enjoyed gathering around the dining room table at your grandparents’ house, tucking in to a dinner that was bound to leave you—leave _everyone_ who was visiting, including some friends—feeling as stuffed as a turkey.

You still enjoyed indulging in Secret Santa, giving and exchanging gifts with your co-workers.

You still enjoyed partaking in baking Christmas treats with your grandmother, having a particular weakness for her famous banana custard pudding.

You still enjoyed waking up on Christmas Day, being jostled to a dopey-eyed state of awareness, sleep crusting to your eyes as you blankly stared up into the faces of your siblings and cousins.

Unlike most adults your age, you didn’t spend hours upon hours of waiting in line, waiting to pick up a pre-order of the newest coffee machine, or impatiently awaiting the arrival of the latest smartphone by snail mail.

Every year, you made sure to get your Christmas shopping done in November, ignoring the price tags that almost made your eyes pop out of their sockets.

Unlike most adults your age, you didn’t walk into liquor stores to buy champagne, vodka, or any other alcoholic beverages.

You made sure that any alcohol you consumed was done in the safety and comfort of your home, _and_ on New Year’s Eve.

Unlike most adults, you didn’t stand out in the freezing cold, waiting to watch the display of fireworks in the midst of a small ocean of citizens.

You were quite content to see the fireworks display on a live TV broadcast, watching the crowd as they welcomed in a new year while they clapped, cheered, hollered, hugged, kissed, and took pictures or recorded the event on their cell phones.

However…

Christmas in _Japan_ was celebrated differently than how it was celebrated back at home. To say Japan’s culture, and how certain holidays were celebrated in contrast to the West surprised you was putting it nicely, and _very nicely_ at that.

In Japan, Christmas Eve was generally spent with your significant other, provided you actually had someone to call your own.

Other than the various things that actually made you look forward to winter, and Christmas in general, there was one more thing that made you glad about the holiday season—well, one more _person_ , actually.

Your live-in boyfriend, Akira Kurusu.

The chilly early evening air gently nipped at your cheeks, disturbed your hair, and tussled the collar of your parka as you and the frizzy-haired, bespectacled barista walked down a sidewalk that was bare of snow.

Surprising, considering it was the beginning of December, but it wasn’t an unwelcome sight.

Honestly, you fancied the thought of not having to trudge your way through ankle-deep—or even knee-deep—snow for once. To not have your pants soaking wet and cold, and to not have to stomp the soles of your snow boots as you entered a brightly lit grocery store, or you were lured into a sweet shop.

Even if there wasn’t any snow on the ground, or any icicles dangling off of the windowsills of houses, glistening as colourful Christmas lights hit them and making them shimmer with every festive hue, there was a gentle flurry of snow being tossed around in the wind.

A few snowflakes hit your forehead, your cheeks—coloured a rosy red from the wintry air—and a few floated before you, dancing in front of your eyes as you stared, totally mesmerized. In truth, you could be seen the way a child would with their face pressed to the cold windowpane, staring into a toy store and ogling all the shiny trinkets, or watching as mouth-watering holiday specials were prepared right in front of you in the front window of a bakery.

At last one single stray snowflake touched your upper lip, and before you could stop yourself from doing something that reminded you of your childhood, it was too late.

You had already leaned your head back, eyes looking up into the clear evening sky; the clarity of the nocturnal horizon was broken only by the faint twinkling of distant stars, and the dim shimmer of a quarter moon as it peeked out beneath a thin veil of clouds.

The familiar flash of pink was clear as your tongue was cooled by the wintry air, and the moist mouth organ remained out as snowflakes fluttered in the wind, descending down to land on your tongue.

The display of immaturity earned you a few odd looks, muttered comments, annoyed clicks of tongues, and several visible (and hidden) eye-rolls, but there was one person who didn’t look irritated, one person who didn’t show any annoyance at the way you were acting.

Your boyfriend, Akira Kurusu.

He smiled, onyx irises twinkling as his gaze remained locked on your form; the black-framed glasses he was oftentimes seen wearing, _fake_ black-framed spectacles, were nowhere to be seen.

It was only a matter of time until the wintry air may as well be knives that cut across the bare skin of your cheeks, painting them an even deeper rosy hue, and nipped its way through your wool gloves to chill your fingers.

“My, you’re shivering. You could do with a bit of warming up, Treasure.”

That was what Akira whispered in your ear, draping an arm over your shoulder as he took your state of surprise—mild surprise, but your light disadvantage was useful—to press a kiss to your cheek.

The contrast between your boyfriend’s soft, warm lips and the crisp evening air was clear, and as obvious as the dawn of a new day; the telltale feeling of heat crawling up your neck to shamelessly burn your cheeks with a soft rosy hue was nostalgic, painfully familiar.

You watched as a smirk danced on Akira’s lips, watching your blushing, doe-eyed visage, watching as your mouth curved to a perfect _o_ as you stared up at him.

“Well… You aren’t wrong,” you admitted, a puff of white leaving you as you laughed.

“I can help you with that, you know. I can keep you warm tonight. _Always_ ,” he said, his onyx eyes twinkling as he talked.

“ _Or_ ,” you replied, lazily drawling the word as you looked up at him. You paused to deliver a slow jab, the curved joint of your elbow digging into the onyx-eyed demon’s side as he chuckled, obsidian irises swimming in amusement. “You can buy me a hot drink instead.”

Surprisingly, he relinquished to your request without a single complaint.

“As you wish, kitten.”

Air left Akira’s lips in a misty white cloud as he chuckled, leaning down to bless your cool forehead with a kiss.

As fortune would have it, there was a decent-sized crowd gathered around a food truck parked outside a few businesses. Your mouth started to water right away, taking in a slow, deep breath. You took in the scent of sweet cocoa, melting cheese, sizzling butter and meat patties, and various pastries. You reached for money in your left-hand coat pocket, sandwiched between your debit card and some gift cards you saved from the previous holiday season, but a hand gently rested on your wrist, halting you from the intended action.

You blinked, bumping up your chin and locking eyes with Akira’s onyx stare.

“Akira…?”

“I said that I’d pay, dearest. What do you want?”

Before you could open your mouth to reply, to tell your frizzy-haired boyfriend that it was fine, that you’d been joking with him, and that you could pay for whatever tickled your fancy, he shot you a look. It was a look that quietly, but plainly, told you that he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.  
  
“Fine, fine. Whatever you say, my _gentleman_ ,” you said, laughing as your hand dropped from the pocket your money was in.

“You have my thanks, my _lady_ ,” he replied, cooing the word “lady” as it left his mouth. To you, it sounded like the words “my lady” had been dipped in warm, melting sugar…

It took you five minutes for your sweet tooth to latch on to a drink that caught your eye, and when you selected it, eyes twinkling like a child standing in the middle of the world’s largest candy shop, Akira laughed.

“Thank you very much. Please come again,” the server said, sliding a medium-sized Styrofoam cup towards you.

The tab was quickly pried off, and you wasted little time in taking a sip. You could almost _feel_ the happy glow pouring from your eyes; a matching grin curled your lips, showing a hint of teeth. The contrast between the smooth cocoa-flavoured drink and the fluffy whipped cream was clear. It was a parallel that you delighted in; you didn’t even care that a line of whipped cream lingered on your lips. Hot cocoa was an all-time winter classic, a favourite drink of yours ever since childhood.

A chuckle from your frizzy-haired significant other made you look at him, brow raised as a smirk teased the corner of the incubus’s lips.

“What?” you asked, blinking as you ogled Akira’s expression.

You weren’t sure what to make of that mischievous glint shining in his eyes, his irises that shone like obsidian jewels catching a cold glare of silver moonlight.

Your answer didn’t come in the form of a verbal reply, no.

Instead, what you felt was a forefinger and thumb swiping over your lips, catching some of the whipped cream that coated your rosy mouth. You watched as the cream-covered fingers were raised to his mouth, doe-like gaze glistening with childish wonder. You watched as the same digits coated in _thick white_ were slowly inserted into his mouth, delving past his lips and into the warm, wet darkness between his cheeks.

And the whole time your eyes never left Akira’s, not for a moment; his eyes never strayed from you, watching as a flash of pink licked up the creamy mess, slowly. To polish off the _public_ display of teasing, Akira intentionally made a slurping noise, finishing with a slow, dreadfully slow show of licking his fingers, coating them in a generous layer of saliva.

“…You had some cream on your mouth. I was merely helping you clean up, love,” Akira said while lowering his spit-covered fingers. He breathed a laugh as you narrowed your eyes.

“Is this _really_ the time or the place for _this_?” you asked, darting your eyes around erratically, staring at the clusters of citizens.

Even if they had seen anything—and judging by the looks you both were getting, looks of jealousy from men and women alike—you doubted Akira gave any wandering or curious looks a second thought. Your suspicions were confirmed as he simply looped an arm over your shoulder, bringing you close to him. He had all but waved off your concerns, not sparing the other humans a moment’s glance.

“You speak as though I did something inappropriate. You know I’d never be _that_ affectionate in public, darling,” the frizzy-haired demon said, blessing your cold, rosy cheek with a kiss.

“Merry Christmas, my Treasure.”

You smiled; soft, barely-there, but it was present. He was a daredevil hellion to be sure, but he was _your_ willing to please hell raiser.

“Merry Christmas, Akira.”


End file.
